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    Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 1 and 2: Resurrection and Awakening
    Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 1 and 2: Resurrection and Awakening
    Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 1 and 2: Resurrection and Awakening
    Ebook439 pages7 hours

    Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 1 and 2: Resurrection and Awakening

    By Randolph Lalonde

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    About this ebook

    Captain Valance has no memory of his past. Left adrift on a strange ship, he begins a new life. Years later he's become a well known hired gun while searching for clues to his past. This follows the First Light Chronicles cult hit Space Opera series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRandolph Lalonde
    Release dateAug 3, 2009
    ISBN9781452307374
    Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 1 and 2: Resurrection and Awakening
    Author

    Randolph Lalonde

    Born in 1974, Randolph Lalonde has worked in customer service, sales, played drums for several heavy metal bands you've never heard of, dealt blackjack in a traveling casino, and serviced countless computers. He's also owned businesses in the design, printing, collectible and custom computer fields.He completed writing his first novel in the fantasy adventure genre at the age of fifteen and has been writing ever since.He self published his first novel;Fate Cycle: Sins of the Past in 2004 and after taking a break has begun to release his work again starting with the Spinward Fringe series.Randolph Lalonde's Ebooks have been legally downloaded over one million times to date. He has made just enough to keep writing full time from sales. He is deeply grateful for his following of readers and strives to improve his skills to better entertain them. The Spinward Fringe Space Opera series has proven to be his most popular offering.

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    • 5/5
      Excitement throughout the two books with a really surprise ending . What will happen with two captains and which one will take commands

    Book preview

    Spinward Fringe Broadcasts 1 and 2 - Randolph Lalonde

    Prologue

    It was a rebirth. Under the flickering lights of the cold cargo hold, two women played at midwifery. Between them stood a scratched and dented stasis pod. The tall one with the long brown hair entered a combination into the control panel on its side. The shorter woman waited, standing ready with a breathing device in hand.

    The dark pod opened at the bottom. Thick fluid burst forth, carrying an unconscious man out onto the deck. Hurry, get the pump in, said the taller of the two.

    Just as the man was beginning to gag, choking and gurgling, the shortest of the pair bent down and expertly inserted the breathing apparatus. It began to extract the liquid in his lungs while she held it to his mouth, keeping him from spitting it out. The content of his stomach came up as well; it joined the puddle of life preserving fluid spreading across the floor.

    He began to thrash about. His fit of writhing and retching was an unconscious thing, a result of his sudden extraction. Hold his hands, Alice, we don't want him hurting himself, poor man.

    At her counterpart's urging, she did what was asked, kneeling down and taking firm grip of his wrists. Good thing he's still sedated. This is no picnic.

    Was it like this for you? asked the more stout of the pair.

    It was, Alice replied. Only I was awake the entire time. The system used the emergency pump to help me expel some of this gunk. I didn't understand how my body worked when the ejection system dropped me. He'll be better off.

    Do you think he'll remember anything from before they put him in?

    They wiped him, his memories are gone. His skills and what they programmed into him are all there, though. He’ll make his way until we can circle back around for him, Alice said. It was as much a wish and a promise as it was a statement.

    What did they program him with? Did you get a chance to see?

    Combat skills, survival, medical treatment methods for all known races, a huge object and location database, and some kind of persistent service and employment directive. The personality they set him up with is pretty featureless, pure alpha type, though. It's like they wanted him to work for them, or anyone really, but be some kind of leader too. If it sticks, he'll never be able to function unless he has some kind of employer, at least a temporary one.

    That sounds like android programming, Alice’s companion said, shaking her head. What jobs do you think he’ll want?

    Anything, from waste management to CEO to hit man. He'll go crazy if he's unemployed for long. The only way to break it is serious psychological trauma.

    He should fit right into this sector, then.

    I can’t believe we made it. The sentient rights laws here are perfect for refugees like him.

    And you, added Alice’s companion. Too bad we have to move on.

    Hopefully we’ll be back here before he’s had much of a chance to settle in. The company even changed his name.

    To what?

    Jacob Valance.

    That's awfully close to his real one.

    That's the point, Alice replied. He'll accept it more easily if it's near what he grew up with. I wish we had time to find out what they had planned for him, all this preparation had to be for something, Alice said as she stood up. He's clear. Pull out the pump, Bernice.

    The mouthpiece was carefully removed and Alice put a blanket around him with great care. She knelt down and gently wiped the thick stasis fluid off his sleeping face. I wish I could do more for you, Dad. I wish I could stay and help you make sense of it all, remind you of what you're missing, where you should be, but they're after me. They'll be after you, too, if we don't leave you here, she whispered. I promise I'll come back for you when I get some breathing room.

    We have to go, Dear, I'm so sorry, Bernice said as she closed the doors to the stasis pod and activated the small anti-gravity drive on the bottom. It hovered up from the deck as she started leading it to the airlock.

    I know, Alice replied quietly as she stood and wiped away a tear. God this is wrong, but it's the only way for him to be safe. If they find him with us, they'll kill him. Or worse. She dropped a backpack off her shoulder as she looked around the cargo bay, shaking her head.

    She followed behind Bernice and a moment later the airlock sealed. The rattling and creaking of the docking mechanism holding the smaller ship to Jacob Valance’s new home announced his daughter’s departure.

    The vessel carrying the two women away jettisoned the empty stasis chamber. It cracked and twisted in the near instant freeze of space before a small anti-fighter shell blew it into a million pieces. It would transmit the status of its contents no longer, and as the small, nondescript long range shuttle escaped into hyperspace, the larger, older ship drifted just on the edge of an asteroid belt, waiting for her new captain to rouse from his long slumber.

    One

    Five Years Later

    Lacent III was its usual brooding self. Planets have moods, temperaments. Lacent III was always dark and cold. With grey rolling clouds that barely yielded rain and the eleven-degree temperature, it was anything but comfortable for human habitation, even in the temperate zone. As the small crew of five made their way up the empty main street of Second Fall, a small port town with nothing but dry, hard packed ground for miles around, they shielded their faces and exposed skin against the fine sand whirling around. The air was grey, the ground was grey. The features of the steel buildings glinted in the minimal light. Any paint or decoration had eroded away long ago under the constant abrasion of coarse airborne particulates.

    The day was only a little brighter than night, but it was twenty degrees warmer. Twilight drove everyone indoors, including the group of five that had no idea they were being watched. The Gallows Hall was the biggest – and best – tavern on the planet, and it was the only place they wanted to be. It was six storeys tall and, for a price, provided lodgings to travellers who wanted a little time away from their ships or were just too intoxicated to remember where they landed.

    I can't wait to get inside and just crawl into a bottle of hot Michnikel, one of the crew said. He was a shorter fellow who didn't bother with his headgear, but tried to shield his face from the sand with his hands instead.

    That stuff'll rot your brain. Besides, I don’t see the point in drinking something that causes memory loss more than seventy per cent of the time. I'm here to make good memories, that's what leave's all about, a young woman walking in front of him replied. She was one of the practical ones in the group, who wore her entire protective bodysuit.

    You think we'll have a good time? Here? Have you seen where we landed?

    Now I understand why the captain stayed aboard ship. There's nothing to get excited about, said another fellow who shielded his face with his upraised arm.

    He stayed aboard ship to finish the trade. We're lucky we got off, otherwise we'd be transporting pressurized phosphoric acid for a couple of hours, said the one at the rear, the other woman in the group, who wore her vacsuit headpiece as well. It had a transparent face and fit closely to her head. Driving a hover truck through this mess at two hundred klicks an hour with a load of pressurized acid isn’t my idea of fun. Or safety.

    Why would anyone want to pressurize that stuff, anyway? It's bloody dangerous.

    They can squeeze a little over six per cent more cargo into the space they have, that's why. Amounts to an awful lot when you’re hauling half a kilometre of cargo cars behind your ship. Think about it.

    As they came within just a few metres of the paired doors leading into the tavern, a few patrons came lurching out. They were in environment suits, some close fitting, others more protective and utilitarian. They looked like a mixed bunch, but definitely from the same crew. They were stumbling about, a few of them leaning against each other. Oh God, I hate this planet, said one.

    Is it suppos’ ta burn? said another gruff fellow with a thick accent as he staggered a few steps, bottle in hand.

    Let's get back to the ship.

    The crew on their way into the bar hesitated for a moment, waiting for the nine patrons to get out of the way. Without warning, the stumbling, bottle-toting patron staggered right towards them. Hey, Captain doesn't let booze on board, want the rest o' this? he asked, holding out the half full bottle as he fell into one of the approaching crew.

    Two of them caught him and a third took the bottle. Judging from what it's done to you, I think I'll pass, one of them said, handling it by the neck with two fingers.

    Back on your feet, guy, the larger of the crew said as he walked the intoxicated fellow back to his friends, who were slowly starting to walk away from the door. A pair of them each took an arm and started guiding him down the street.

    They watched the ragtag crew make their way down the abandoned walkway for a moment then started through the doors.

    Wait, where's Gillian? asked the woman at the head of the group.

    The other three looked around and didn't see the woman who was walking at the rear last they looked. Gillian! one of the men called out.

    They must have taken her, said another fellow, drawing his long pistol. He ran down the street to the nearest corner where he could see one of the patrons just walking out of sight.

    Wait! said another man as he ran after his friend. He was several metres behind, but close enough to see the flashes of light from the alleyway as his friend was shot several times. He stopped, unsure of himself. The two other crewmembers stopped behind him. What do we do?

    We wait, then we pick up Curtis' corpse and bring it back to the ship, the other fellow said, checking the crew status readout on his wrist. One light had gone out.

    We didn't see them take her, whoever did it must be around here somewhere, retorted the last remaining woman in the group.

    If those folks were the distraction, I don't want to see the main event.

    What do you mean? We can't just-

    I mean whoever's got their hands on her are more dangerous and I don't want to cross them, he insisted.

    We can report them, there’s a sheriff department here, and-

    Gillian wasn’t her real name, and our cargo is being sold off-book. We get on with our night, or we chase our tails until Captain Torrs leaves us behind. Gillian’s on her own. That was the end of it.

    Across the street, behind a small building, Gillian struggled with her wrist restraints. Her captor had come up from behind without making a sound while she stood watching the stumbling revellers. He pressed one hand down on her sidearm, jamming it into its holster. He popped her helmet open and off with an expert hand, then held a weapon against her neck.

    Don't say a word, don't move, and you'll make it out of this alive, he whispered, dragging her backwards across the street at a run. He was strong, fast, and he knew exactly what he was doing. As soon as they got around the corner, he took her handgun out of its holster and put it inside his coat. She grabbed his arm and tried to flip him, but he dropped to his knees and punched her in the stomach so hard it knocked all the wind out of her.

    He tripped her and she fell flat on her back. Before she knew it, she was in wrist restraints. My license number is Valance-433-11482-21-3. I represent the Dormer Port Authority.

    Bounty hunter? she asked, trying to catch her breath.

    Yes. They have you down for one count of attempted starship hijacking and five counts of murder.

    Let me explain! That ship belonged to my brother, his crew wouldn't give it to me when he died.

    The bounty hunter pulled something out of his black long coat and rolled it out on the ground beside her. You'll get a trial. There’s real law where you’re going.

    Gillian watched him open a slit in the long bag and redoubled her efforts, trying to get on her feet. What are you doing? she asked.

    It's an emergency stasis bag, it'll protect you until I can get you into a real long-term tube, he said as he firmly planted a hand on her chest and poised to inject her with something using a device on his wrist.

    Please, don't do this! They'll kill me! Just let me go, I'll give you everything I have, anything you want! she pleaded as she looked up at his blackened transparesteel faceplate. He was in a sealed black vacsuit and black long coat; everything about him was unyielding and inhuman. He brought the device on his left forearm up to her throat again, only this time the metal injector touched bare skin and she winced in anticipation of whatever substance he was about to dose her with. There was a moment of hesitation. I'm sorry, I'm under contract, he said before she felt the injector's pinch. She slipped into unconsciousness as he rolled her into the vac-bag.

    Two

    Routine Maintenance

    The Samson hovered over the alleyway, blasting the shadows, kicking up a whirlwind of dirt and dust. The only light came from a small personnel hatch high above as it slid open. Captain Valance awaited below with a body in a stasis bag over his shoulder. Frost, the Samson’s heavyset tactical officer, dropped a harness from the hatch and his captain wrapped his free arm in it. Haul me up, he commanded.

    Frost activated the winch and pulled him up ten storeys to the hatchway and into the lower airlock. Captain's in and we're clear to move on to the second pick up, Ashley, Frost reported.

    Roger, moving on, replied a female voice with a slight lisp.

    She cause much trouble? Frost asked the captain, regarding the stasis bag as he made sure the lower hatch was secure.

    No more than I expected, Captain Valance replied as he stepped onto the small lift plate that would elevate him out of the airlock and into the interior of the ship. I'm going to get her into stasis. Pass my thanks on to the local Sheriff here, make sure he got his fee. Get the rest of the crew on board and set course for the Thadd System.

    Aye, Sir.

    Did you manage to replace anyone while I was land side? Captain Valance asked.

    Aye, Sir. Four able crewmen signed on, all experienced, and an engineer with three years’ schooling, said Frost.

    Lucky. Does he have any experience?

    Just a few months on an old ore hauler. He's only nineteen.

    Young. Well, take care of him. Make sure he has an opportunity to learn before we need him for anything important.

    Aye, Sir.

    Oh, and Frost – after this capture is in stasis, I'll be in my quarters. No disturbances. Captain Valance's voice had a manner that ended arguments and cleared rooms.

    Aye. Bad one, Sir? Frost asked as he watched his captain reach the top of the airlock and step out.

    He didn't reply.

    We're at the pickup point, Frost; they should be right below us, Ashley reported, her voice coming through the communicator stud in his pierced ear.

    Aye, I see 'em, he replied, looking at the beat up monitor in the airlock wall. Opening up. Get ready ta get outta here, we're headed straight on to Thadd.

    Really? We getting leave? she asked.

    Don't think so. Pretty sure it's a job. Ask the captain later, he's in a mood.

    He always gets that way when we pull off a bounty he has to track for a while.

    Yup.

    Know why?

    Nope, Frost said as he opened the hatch and kicked both of the harnesses down to the crewmembers below. We've got to get a better system for this, he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

    Elsewhere on the ship, Finn shook his head at a tiny compartment where several operating components were wedged in. It was like looking at an old three-dimensional puzzle. Every key component of the inertial dampener systems was locked up in some box, or sealed in some piping, or built right between two parallel bulkheads, like this one. It took Finn half an hour of looking at how it was placed just to figure out his best route to access. He had seen tight systems before, but whoever had rebuilt that section of the dampers had one thing in mind: maximum effectiveness using minimal space.

    Word was that they had just finished chasing down a bounty and it meant a payday for everyone. When and how much he hadn't asked yet, but since he had nothing to do with the capture, he wasn't expecting anything. His experience over the last couple of days had been eventful, interesting, so he had no reason to complain as far as he was concerned.

    He had been hired on by Frost, the first officer. What a character, with his accent, which was a little like a Core World British but closer to the old Earth Irish accent he’d heard in movies. Hiring for the Samson wasn't exactly complicated; Frost checked for a criminal record, glimpsed at his educational transcript, and he was assigned to a repair post aboard.

    His quarters consisted of a locker, a lower bunk, and a trunk under the end of the bed. There were six bunks crammed into the small cabin and a man to each. He was thankful that the fellow who slept above him, a large man who smelled like gear degreaser, worked on the opposite shift. He had only met him once, while he was settling in.

    Having served on an ore hauler, Finn was used to a noisy ship, so the quiet of the Samson was a little unnerving. It was an ugly, heavily modified ship that looked more like an insect with its engine pods, the maxjack grappler, and cargo train hook-ups at the back. He couldn't believe how well maintained the ship was on the inside. It was all unpainted decking and grating everywhere, with dim, bioluminescent lighting to save power. Mechanically he had never been on such a ship.

    There were twenty-eight aboard but he hadn't seen anyone for hours. Not since he had started servicing the starboard inertial damper system. At first he didn't understand how he could work on them while they were in hyperspace, but then he took a look at the electrical diagram. There were backups for the backups, so if he took something offline, another part of the system would compensate seamlessly.

    He finally figured out how to move the core inertial director he was working on. It was a bulky, square component connected to secondary power in at least three ways. Half of its casing was removed already so there was room for the modifications that had been made. Finn shook his head and crawled into the tiny workspace against the bulkhead, lying on one side with his arms over his head so he could fit and reach the component. As he had seen, it looked like if he moved the whole director box up, then away from him, down and forward, it should just pop right out.

    It took four tries. There was a latch behind that locked the whole component in place that he hadn't seen until he was under it. After that, it came right out into the hallway. It took him a few moments to extract himself from the cramped space, then he just stood there looking at the part. What the hell happened to this thing? There's a reserve capacitor and God knows what else, he muttered to himself.

    Looks like Captain built a whole backup control circuit into it. Look there, it's a wireless receiver, Frost pointed out. He was chewing a greenish meal bar.

    It's attached to a very old processing unit.

    Doesn't need much of a brain to relay commands.

    True. I have to admit – it's ugly, but ingenious. There's a primary and two backup systems built into this little unit, and I couldn't see it ever completely breaking down, said Finn.

    Then why’s it out on the deck all in the open like?

    Oh, a status panel on the bridge said it was running hot by fourteen degrees.

    That'd be the capacitor kit built right up against the bottom of the casin' I'd imagine, said Frost.

    Yup. Finn carefully picked up the unit and turned it over so he could see the capacitor kit, a small, heavy box built right up against the inertial director unit. It was painted black at one point in time, but most of the paint had flaked and fallen off the casing. This thing looks older than I am.

    Probably is. Does it hold a charge?

    He scanned it and nodded. Enough to keep this unit powered for five or six days if the mains go out. I bet if I add a little insulation right between the director and capacitor casings, it'll stop overheating. Finn put the unit down, being careful not to disconnect any of the cables leading back into the crawlspace, and started to remove the capacitor casing. Does the captain modify a lot of the ship systems?

    Frost laughed, nodding. He built this rig from a hull and a pile o' parts in the cargo hold, if you believe the stories. He was an engineer for some military outfit.

    How long have you been aboard?

    Little over three years. Started as a gunner, said Frost.

    What do you do now?

    Tactical. Not because I was a good gunner, but because I run that maxjack like no one he's found.

    Those big clamps, right? asked Finn.

    Well, that's part of it. There's also automated plasma cutters, pry arms, a fortified airlock, and other stuff you should just hope ye never have to repair. Ever seen one work before?

    Nope, this is my first tour as a mercenary. All I know is that we go after people who are running away from the law or owe our clients credits.

    You mean lots o' credits. Captain doesn't go after debts under a hundred thousand in the right currency unless he gets to keep whatever he finds. Bounties since I've been aboard are mostly for serious crime and we do almost anything else a ship this class does. He's no slaver, mind you. Anyway, a maxjack grapples onto another ship then uses cutters and that hardened airlock to bust through a door or make a new one. It's a hell of a show, pirate's dream, Frost said. Only way to get a hold of a proper manufactured one is to capture a military ship, so the Captain installed this one himself, was barely functioning then. It was pretty good, then I joined the crew and started tinkering. Now I can crack into near any ship we come across. No other maxjack like it, something to see in action.

    I could imagine. Did the captain build it himself?

    Nope, he said he got it from a scrap yard. He's made improvements, sure, but mostly he had to make sure the rest of this old cargo hauler could handle the stress and impact it goes through when the maxjack is doing what it was made for: crackin' hulls.

    This was a cargo hauler? asked Finn.

    At some point in time, aye. Makes sense that you don't recognize it though, with all the armour plating and extra manoeuvring thrusters.

    Not to mention the rail cannons and EMP turret.

    Yup, there's nothing else like her. Customized past designation and rock hard. A lot like her captain, Frost said.

    He seems that way. How long has he had this ship?

    Last time someone asked him, he said he was hatched here. At first I didn't believe it. Since then, I've seen enough to know it's been awhile. This ship is as much part of him as his right arm. No one knows it like him, no one could run her like him.

    Well, I can see he already thought of my solution. There's already insulation between the capacitor kit and the main director box, it's just been worn through, Finn said as he pulled off what was left of the grey-blue insulation pad. It just needed replacing.

    Well, if you're thinking like the captain while servicing his ship, it'll be hard ta go wrong. You're doin' better than the last man standing in your place already.

    What happened to him, anyway?

    He bought a ship the captain picked up on a job. Makin' his own way somewhere now. Didn't take long, he only lasted five months. Pretty normal for repair crews ta go through members, though, said Frost.

    Well, if the whole ship's like this, then I could see why. Without the proper training, someone couldn't last at this. Everything's done a certain way, it's all made to work a long time. Bad workmanship shows when the captain rebuilt the ship himself.

    Yup. Last chief engineer we had discovered that the hard way. Haven't had an official replacement since.

    What happened? Finn asked as he started putting the whole inertial director back together.

    Well, that's a sore point with some of the crew, so you'll have ta keep this to yourself. His name was Nokilla. Good fella really, smart. He was lazy though, and kept the repair crews running hard so he didn't have to get his hands dirty. There was this one recovery that almost went bad. We took a lot of hits from this ship that thought it could get away from us because it had an arc gun and a beam or two. We got 'em anyway, but got shaken up real good. Lost a couple o’ repair guys and a lotta grunts. Only way to get the ship back in shape was to get everyone in on the repairs, Nokilla included. I remember it like yesterday. A whole section of our main starboard power relay was hit, you can still see it if you look.

    I think I did, that whole section of the inner hull is a different colour.

    Aye, ya have me and Torres to thank for that, we patched that hole. We couldn't run the new cables for power, though. I might have a pretty good idea of how that stuff works, but I'm no specialist. So Nokilla had to do it. Well, he rushed through so he could move onto the next job and was just finishing up. He added a few power distributors to the circuits so he didn't have to manually hardwire any of the main lines, knowing that he would be short on other work that needed doing closer to the engines. One of the repair guys, well this one was a lass, called him on it when she saw what he was doing. She knew that without those power distributors, a part of the engine would have ta be wired without a backup line or safeties.

    Finn shook his head and whistled. Wow, one thing goes wrong and you could start a fire or blow a whole line of thrusters.

    Right, so Nokilla passes her off and tells her to keep her nose out of his business. She stomps off, pissed like it was all personal, and just stops dead as she rounds the corner. There's Captain, standing right within earshot. She can't move, he's fuming.

    Oh crap, he didn't hear the whole thing did he?

    "He musta. He just politely as pie steps around her and walks right up beside Nokilla. He looks over the mess he's made and just asks, 'Do we have more distributors?' Chief tells him, 'I'll get them from somewhere, Captain.' Captain looks over to the repair girl, I think her name was Limerick, real nice young thing, and asks, 'Do we have any more in stores?' and she says we don't.

    Captain doesn't say anything, he just grabs Nokilla by the collar and hauls his ass down the hallway like some sack of meat. At one point, Captain pulled his gun so the chief wasn't arguing until he saw the starboard airlock. I was standing right there, getting suited up for another trip out to help with patching the hull and Captain tells me, 'Open it.' I'm not daft enough to argue when he's got his gun out, so I do and in goes Nokilla. Captain closes the inner door and shoots the controls then says, 'If you can fix this from in there and let yourself back in, I'll let you stay aboard until we get to the next port.' Well, Nokilla just stared for a minute then he opened the control panel on his side. He must have been more rattled than anyone though, 'cause the next thing we see is this spark from our side of the controls and the outer doors open. Sucked him right out into space, no helmet, nothin’, guy wasn't even smart enough to strap himself in or get into an emergency suit.

    You're kidding! said Finn.

    Nope, Nokilla's prolly still drifting around out there.

    I've heard of people getting spaced before, but I've never met someone who actually did it.

    Well, that's our captain. He doesn't lose his temper often, but lazy cusses like Nokie and folk who endanger the ship'll send him over the edge every time.

    Has he done it to anyone else? Finn asked in a whisper.

    He hasn't had to. Everyone knows what happened to Nokie. He's left people in port before if they can't follow the ways of the ship, sure, but that's different. You've still got air, you're somewhere and you can prolly find another crew to sign with.

    Finn looked at the inertial director, double-checking his workmanship.

    Hey, look at that, it looks exactly like it did when ye found it, only newer, Frost said as he picked up a mechanical scanner and checked it. Temperature's down twenty four degrees, looks like you did a hell of a job.

    I just matched what the Captain did before.

    You'll do just fine as long as you keep doing everything that way. I'll see you 'round kid, Captain prolly wants me on the bridge, Frost said as he handed the small scanner tool to Finn.

    Frost wiped his hands off on the back of his loose fitting vacsuit and rounded a corner, nearly bumping into Captain Valance. The lighting was always a little dim, as though to hide the bare cables and piping along the walls. The panels that were made to keep them out of sight were long gone, whether as a result of some kind of damage or because they caused a major inconvenience during repair, no one but the captain knew.

    He nodded at Frost, who had fallen in step at his left hand side. Nokilla story again?

    Yup, kid's eyes were the size of pie plates.

    You know I really thought he'd be able to find his way in, even if he had to suit up, go outside and come in through a working hatch.

    I hear ya, but it's still a good story to tell the newbies. Keeps 'em in line right from the start.

    Three

    The Bridge

    The Samson emerged from hyperspace and expelled its waste gases in a flaring dispersal cloud. For a moment, it looked like the ship had luminous white wings before the debris scattered in all directions. The tarnished brown and dark grey hull of mix-matched panels and armour plating glinted under the light shed by the distant blue sun of the Thadd solar system.

    Inside the snub-nosed bridge section at the front of the ship, Captain Jake Valance piloted the vessel personally. He glanced towards the transparent steel window by reflex, then back down at the console. Originally, the bridge featured a large window at the front but over time armour took priority, and with the addition of plating, there was nothing but a four centimetre high, meter-wide slit left. The bridge was dark; most of the light came from the flat control panels or safety lights lining the inverted U-shaped walkway.

    Why aren't we connected to Navnet? I'm not Alligian, I can't sense gravitational shifts and magnetic fields with my mind. We need a trajectory, Captain Valance said.

    The Port control system says our subscription has expired, replied a dark haired young woman from beside him. She was scrolling through a holographic list of prices and news announcements that was contaminated by dozens of advertisements. On the panel underneath it, the subscription terms were listed. They say you'll have to pay the last four months and the next two if you want access to the Navnet.

    "God damned crooks, why the hell

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